Hey guys. I'm so, so sorry for not updating yesterday, I feel terrible. I promised to update on Wednesday and to return to my original posting schedule and yet, here I am, already a day late again... I really planned on uploading the next chapter yesterday, but then I started working on my bachelor thesis and went to rehearsal and suddenly, it was 11 pm and I was dead tired.
Instead of making more promises that I'm not sure I can keep, I'll just leave it at this: I do my best to update once a week, but when life gets in the way (as it usually does), there might only be a chapter every two weeks. I hope you're not too disappointed or cross...
Thank you all for being so patient and, of course, for reading this story :) If you have any ideas, suggestions, wishes as to what should/could happen in the future chapters, leave me a comment or a PM :)
Okay, now enough from me and on with the story.
The seven-day passes soon expired, the soldiers flocking back to Aldbourne now that their leave was over. Wounded returned from the hospital and were greeted with much enthusiasm. The atmosphere was filled with a sense of joy to be alive, a highly justified sentiment in everyone's opinion. Still, Winters, who was promoted to Captain and now officially Easy's CO, quickly had them focused on the work at hand again.
The soldiers had always taken their training seriously. Sure, there had been a few pranks and jokes back in basic and also afterwards, but overall, they had all known that it was important. They all had bitched and grumbled and griped about it at some point – they were soldiers, it was basically good form to do that – but that didn't mean they disparaged its importance.
Now, however, they saw the training in a different light. Drills and field exercises, marches and night problems, everything carried the added weight of knowing the consequences of treating it lightly. Death or serious injury. They knew because they had experienced it. Jumping into combat and watching your friends die had a way of putting things into perspective.
Which was what irritated the veterans the most about the replacements that were brought in to fill Easy's depleted ranks. Fresh of the boat from the states, quite a few of these boys had the nerve to actually bemoan the fact that they hadn't been a part of the D-Day drop into occupied France.
"I would have shown those Krauts", one of them boasted as they prepared for PT in the morning.
Jessica snorted. "You wouldn't have lasted a day", she informed him bluntly, eyeing him with a mixture of disgust and ridicule.
It was obvious from the first day of training that the replacements' skills were very far from the standards Easy Company was used to. That wasn't entirely their fault. In an effort to bring its sometimes severely diminished units back to full combat strength, the Army had compressed the two years of intense training into a meagre eight months.
The replacements knew the very basics of jumping and manoeuvres, but little more than that. And so, it fell to the veterans to whip them into shape, bring their skills up to scratch and build up the fitness and stamina these boys lacked. The NCOs especially worked hard to impress on the new guys that mistakes could get you killed and that war wasn't glorious, but ugly, brutal and absolutely nothing to look forward to.
...
Maxine, due to her upper-class upbringing, was very talented when it came to schooling her features and being perfectly polite even when she thought somebody was the height of idiocy. Also, she had a natural authority about her and as the veterans knew, she had no problem asserting her authority as a senior non-com and squad leader. The replacements discovered that fact rather quickly.
As they went to find out which platoon and squad they were assigned to, Higgins muttered to his buddy Andrews: "God I hope we get put in a good squad."
"Yeah, I hope so, too. I don't wanna have to look after some dame on top of everything else", Andrews agreed, shaking his head.
"That's right. Or worse, have to follow one of them in combat", Higgins continued.
Andrews snorted derisively. "Can you imagine? They actually put a girl in charge of a squad. What's next? A woman lieutenant?"
"You might want to watch what you're saying when everyone can hear you", a light voice spoke up.
The two men turned to see a pretty young woman in her early twenties looking at them, lips quirked up in a smile. "Oh yeah?", Higgins said, flashing her a grin. "What makes you say that, doll?"
She shrugged. "Oh, you know", she offered nonchalantly, "just a few people might disagree with you. I wouldn't want you to get embarrassed or hurt."
They scoffed and waved off her concerns, assuring her that they could handle themselves.
Ten minutes later, Higgins and Andrews entered the barracks of second platoon, looking for a Sergeant Lloyd. "Back there", they were told when they asked where they could find their squad leader. Approaching the small group at the back of the billet, they quickly recognised the woman from earlier talking to another woman shuffling a deck of cards and a man with a lopsided smile.
"Sergeant Lloyd? Captain Winters assigned us to your squad."
Maxine looked up and stifled the urge to laugh as she saw the same two guys standing in front of her who had so openly discussed their low opinions of 2nd Battalion's female members. She also noted that they looked at Dukeman and that Frances was smirking impishly.
Dukeman just pointed at his squad leader and grinned as a look of horrified realisation, mixed with badly hidden disdain, spread on the replacements' faces.
"Pick a free bunk", Maxine just said, fixing them with a stern gaze. "And then get ready for training. Wouldn't want you to feel like us women can't look after ourselves, would we?" She smiled sweetly, causing Frances to snicker.
Thoroughly embarrassed, they complied.
At the end of the day, Higgins and Andrews were forced to revise their opinion of the women. If anything, they had been faced with the jarring reality that the women, just like the other veterans, were far more skilled, tough and experienced than them.
...
And that was biggest issue the Toccoa men had with the replacements; the thinly veiled, sometimes blatant lack of respect towards the women in the battalion. The disparaging comments and scornful glares made their blood boil, even more so when the girls just laughed them off or pretended not to notice them.
But since they would likely end up jeopardising the women's authority even further by intervening and putting every single one of the disrespectful new boys in their place as many of them would love to, the veterans let their friends handle the matter in their own ways.
Though nobody had said anything of not enjoying the show when it happened.
They hid their grins and stifled their giggles when Theresa, who had been promoted and was now officially in charge of the squad she'd been leading since D-Day, methodically took apart the replacements' abysmal performances on field problems and orienteering exercises. The Nebraskan calmly pointed out mistakes and errors, her analysis delivered in a frank, matter-of-fact tone without condescension but without sugar-coating things either. And she always showed the new guys how it was done, patiently explaining and demonstrating until they got the hang of it.
They pretended not to feel amused or satisfied when Jessica mercilessly corrected the replacements' stance in hand-to-hand combat, her observances blunt and to the point. The new guys that felt like bragging was the way to go about proving themselves to the 'old guard' had to put their money where their mouth was and were more often than not put squarely on their ass. Those that thought they could mouth off at the Marylander found themselves on their backsides as well as on the receiving end of Jessica's acerbic comments.
The Toccoa veterans also found it highly entertaining to watch or at least listen to Louise when she supervised the replacements on the shooting range. And many of them had trouble keeping a straight face as the Brit worked to improve the new kids' technique.
"You can stop looking at me like I just stabbed you with a coat hanger, Jackson, a blind man with a stick could see that there's dirt in that chamber."
"Baxter, you can start fiddling with the sights when you actually hit something other than dirt."
"Dear God almighty, that's got to be the biggest load of bullshit I've heard all day. Your stance is about as stable as jello and you're trying to tell me it's the rifle's fault that your shots are all over the place?"
...
But the most impressive spectacle took place when Audrey Maynard overheard a group of Fox company replacements talking.
One of the idiots said: "You know, I heard that there were two broads in this company after D-Day, but the other one was 'badly wounded'." He made air quotes with his fingers, his friends nodding and chuckling as he continued: "Badly wounded. Probably broke a nail or sprained an ankle."
Their laughter abruptly stopped when Audrey suddenly stood before them, eyes blazing with fury.
"You bastards don't know shit", she hissed through grit teeth. "There were nine women in Fox Company before D-Day. Nine. Seven of us were killed that night. And Cassandra Jessup, the 'other broad'" – she mimicked the air quotes, glaring at the offender – "took some shrapnel to the face during a battle. It stuck out of her skull and it's a goddamn miracle that she wasn't killed. I don't know about you, but I'd say that classifies as badly wounded."
The replacements blanched at the image, swallowing thickly.
"I don't give a flying fig leaf that you don't like us", the New Zealander continued, voice in a snarl. "You don't have to like us. Trust me, we don't like you either. But unlike you, we have seen combat. Dick or no dick, we have seen soldiers, friends die, bleed, scream and cry. So shut up and stop talking about stuff you know nothing about. Did I make myself clear?"
Suitably chastised and either beet-red or sheet-white, they nodded hurriedly, muttering "Yes Ma'am" and "Yes, Sergeant".
"Good." With a last withering glare, she breezed past them, back to her friends.
The veterans all agreed that the replacements, especially the one who had made the comments that prompted good-natured, genial Audrey to tear into them, walked away with their pants filled up to the waistband.
No matter the weather, they trained on any terrain imaginable, day or night. After all, the enemy wouldn't politely wait to attack until it was convenient for them. And they used live bullets as well to really impress the sense of reality and danger onto the replacements. Though they understood the reasoning behind it, the medics weren't best pleased with that. They'd had to tend to enough bullet wounds on the battle field, they didn't want to see them during training, too.
"Least that way they learn how to duck", Jessica remarked flippantly.
Catherine, who was bandaging the cut a stray bullet had left on a private's arm, gave her that disapproving look that all mothers seemed to have in common. "Yes, thank you for that input, Jess, it's not helpful."
The blonde raised her hands with an innocent shrug. "I'm just saying..."
"And I'm saying you should get back to training", the medic told her firmly. The poor private looked shame-faced enough already without the barbed comments.
Jessica smiled. "Yes Ma'am."
The Hawaiian had been reinstated in her position as ranking medic after their return to England. Mampre had been only too happy about that decision. "Wouldn't be right if I went and tried to boss you guys around, would it?", he had said with a laugh. "You were on the front lines while I was stuck in the hospital."
To fill the hole Oats had left in their small cluster of medics, Ralph Spina from Philadelphia had been assigned to Easy. He was a friendly sort, even-tempered and eager to learn. He got along well with the Toccoa medics, even if he sometimes seemed a bit unsure.
...
The return of the wounded from hospital was a pleasant contrast to the rigorous training routine. Smokey, true to his nature, had a grand gesture planned and so everybody gathered in the mess hall, dressed to the nines in their dress greens.
Ana María squeezed in beside Hoobler, smoothing down her uniform skirt and smiling at him when he complimented: "You look real pretty, Ana."
"Thank you, Hoobler. You clean up nicely, too."
He grinned and asked the table at large: "You hear that fellas?"
They laughed before falling silent as Smokey claimed their attention with his premiere rendition of The Night of the Bayonet
The night was filled with dark and cold, when Sgt Talbert, the story's told,
pulled on his poncho and headed out, to check the lines, dressed like a Kraut.
Upon a trooper our hero came, fast asleep, he called his name:
Smith, oh Smith, get up! It's time, to take your turn out on the line.
Ana María chuckled, Smokey had a gift for comedy and, as it turned out, poetry. Then again, the man had had more than enough time to tweak and polish the poem to perfection during his stay in hospital.
But Smith, so very weary, cracked an eye, all red and bleary.
Grabbed his rifle, he did not tarry, hearing Floyd, but seeing Jerry.
'It's me!', cried Tab, 'Don't do it!' and yet Smith charged toute suite with bayonet.
He lunged, he thrust both high and low, and skewered the boy from Kokomo.
The Puerto Rican laughed and joined the applause, impressed with his use of 'toute suite' to rhyme with bayonet.
...
When Talbert got one of Smokey's Purple Hearts because he didn't qualify for one as he hadn't been wounded by the enemy, she cheered loudly with the rest of the mess hall.
"It was still pretty stupid to wear a Kraut poncho", Grant commented.
Ana María nodded. "Yeah. He was really lucky."
"Mhm, that our medics are quick on their feet, too", Hoobler added, fingers drumming against the rim of his plate. "I saw Arricante run past our foxhole. Like the wind, that one."
"Yeah, blink and you miss her", Cobb weighed in.
Hobbler turned to Bull, having just remembered something. "Hey, weren't you sharing the foxhole with her?"
"I was keeping watch when they called for a medic", the tall Arkansan said. "One moment, she's dead asleep, the next she's already out of the foxhole. Pretty damn impressive."
Cobb snorted. "Good to know that medic awareness training was of at least some use", he grumbled, eliciting groans of agreement and commiserating laughs from the rest of the table. They had all hated that part of training. It had always interrupted everyone's much needed sleep.
...
Their laughter quieted when Lip got up and said: "Couple of announcements to make, men and women."
They shifted and listened closely.
"First, the training exercise scheduled for 2200 has been cancelled."
Cheers rang out.
"Secondly..." He paused, smile fading from his face. "...all passes are hereby revoked. We're heading back to France, so pack up all your gear. We will not be returning to England, boys and girls."
Ana María felt her stomach tighten, a weight settling in her chest. It had only been a matter of time, but she couldn't help but dread going back to combat.
"Anyone who has not made out a will, go to the supply office", Lipton finished. "Trucks depart from Membury at 0700. As you were."
The atmosphere was suddenly stifling, the mess hall too quiet for the number of people in it. There were murmurs and whispers, but they weren't enough to lighten the sombre tension in the air.